


Weaver

by TheLaziestOrc



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Agender Character, Asexual Character, Bisexual Character, Depression, Explicit Language, Mental Health Issues, Mild Language, Panic Attacks, Social Anxiety
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-28
Updated: 2015-11-28
Packaged: 2018-05-03 19:59:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5304920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLaziestOrc/pseuds/TheLaziestOrc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Following the exploits and adventures of Lia'Vael nar Ulnay.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Weaver

**Author's Note:**

> *Timeline/lore notes: The events described herein begin approximately a week after her sidequest on the Citadel in ME2. All lore/species/historical information will only be taken from codex entries in Mass Effect 1 & 2, anything additional will just be B.S. by me.

“Humor is the light in the darkness.

Without it, everything would just be tears and madness.”

A quote.  By some boob, I’m sure.

 

**PROLOGUE**

 

She was lost. Again.

 

Curse this damned station, Lia'Vael thought, and not for the first time either.  Had she been keeping track, this would've marked her 117th time getting lost trying to find her way around the Citadel, but she never paid attention to that kind of stuff (a discerning observer might remark that perhaps _this_ could be a cause for her constant haphazard wanderings).

 

Currently she was searching for a local establishment in need of a technician to fix their environmental controls.

Why the ad had requested only female technicians was beyond her though.

 

"At this rate the *bzzt* job will be finished by the *bzzt* time I find this place!" she grumbled to herself.

“Might as well try and get directions..."

 

As Lia scanned the back alley corridor she'd managed to find herself in, and the only upright and seemingly coherent organics she could see were a small group of vorcha arguing with a wall.

 

When she started to get close, the nearest one turned and abruptly rasped out:

 

"WATS YOU WANTS GRAK!?"

 

Lia wasn't sure if it was inebriated, handicapped, or if 'grak' was something in the vorcha language that didn't translate (if she was being perfectly honest with herself, it could have been the translator in her suit, Ancestors knew EVERYTHING else she owned was so outdated she could technically put "curator" on her CV), but it was looking at her and only moderately drooling so she decided to continue.

She held up her omnitool and pointed to the address of the ad.

 

"I'm trying to find this place, can any of you... gentlemen... help me?"

 

The spokesman of the group looked her up and down then turned to it's colleagues, one of which kept an eye pointed at her (quite by accident she suspected) and began conversing in low harsh tones.  Once finished, it turned back and addressed her:

 

"YOU PAY?.."

 

*sigh* She should've known they'd ask for money.  She was almost broke, but she figured this could be counted as an investment.

 

Holding up a few chits she said,"I'll pay you this many if you get me there..."

 

She quickly pulled her hand back just before the vorcha's claws snaked out to snatch the money.

 

"BUT, only AFTER we get there."

 

Grumbling under it's breath, it motioned for her to follow and started down the nearest corridor.  Suddenly, there was a sound that seemed to suggest soft, squishy, and perhaps liquidy things, hitting a number of horizontal and vertical surfaces, but when Lia turned to find the source of the sound all she could see were the other two vorcha staring at her (technically one was also staring at the wallpanel by it's side, but that's not important).  When she turned back to the vorcha she'd been following to ask if it had heard something, she was faced by a new vorcha.  Now, Lia was by no means an expert on alien phenotypes, but she knew for a FACT that the vorcha she had been talking to had not been wearing a pinstripe suit before she'd turned around.  Since this one WAS wearing the aforementioned attire, she felt it was definitely a safe bet that this was a new individual.

 

Before she could ask it the obvious questions, it started rasping, gurgling, clicking, and snarling.

 

Lia got the sudden impression that the corridor behind her was quite empty, and the quickly fading pitter-patter of little claws solidified that suspicion.

As she began cleaning spittle off of her faceplate the, for lack of a better term, _fancy_ vorcha spoke:

 

"THOSE GRAKS WANTS SELL YOU.  BAD.  VORCHA GOOD.  VORCHA HELP.  NO CHARGE."

 

The vorcha stepped around her and started down the corridor opposite the direction the first had been going to lead her.

 

"By all means, after you." she mumbled under her breath.  

 

Oh well, Lia thought, at least if it is going to sell my organs, it ain't gonna cost me anything...

 

She sneaked a quick peek over her shoulder as they were walking away, and from what she briefly saw, there wasn't really any choice as to whether or not to accept this vorcha's help...

 

**⇺⇻**

 

"Ancestor's ballz," Lia cursed.

 

A decidedly cheerful number of colors danced across her faceplate as she stared at the sign overhead.  Unable to tear her gaze away from the nearly hypnotic display, she asked the vorcha without turning,

 

"You're POSITIVE this is the place?"

 

She hoped against hope that the creature had got the address wrong.

 

"YES!" it's voice scratched as it pointed to the location plate next to the door.

 

Finally able to wrench her eyes away from the _alluring_  display(‘alluring’ being pronounced with a slight gag, in this case), she looked to where the vorcha had been pointing. Sure enough, it was the correct address.

Lia despairingly looked up again at the neon lights flashing above her.

 

JELLY ROLL! announced the positively _perky_ sign.

 

*sigh* "No wonder the ad read the way it did," she thought to herself "I KNEW that was too much payment for a technician, and only asking for female ones too..."

 

While she considered whether or not to go in and inquire about the ad, she realized that the vorcha was watching her, and not in a you-happen-to-cross-my-eyeline kind of way.  It was only for a split second, but she could've swore it was watching her with intelligence, or even, cunning.  That couldn't be right, though.  Could it?  Half the time you were lucky if they were conscientious enough to not drool directly on your boots, and if you were really lucky they might not even try to steal your boots.  ‘That's probably not fair’ she considered, after all, weren't there enough bosh'tet prejudiced against her people?  She didn't need to roll any more of _that_ particular sewage down the hill.  Besides, wasn't this vorcha at least fully dressed?  That had to count for something...

 

"YOU ASK JOB?" it said, motioning toward the club.

 

"I'm not sure, I don't think they need the kind of work I can do..."

 

"YOUR LEGS STRONG. WALK ALL WAY HERE."

 

Although it probably couldn't see enough of Lia's face inside her helmet, her in-suit monitors recorded a definite increase in cranial temperature.

 

*cough* "Uh..um...well, I...I can't, I mean, I couldn't..." *cough* "I can't dance, never learned, besides, I'm just a mechanic."

 

The vorcha's eyes seemed to become distant for a moment while it considered this.  Then it appeared to snap back to reality.  Lia didn't think a vorcha could make it's voice wheedle, but this one certainly seemed to be trying.

 

"VORCHA HELP QUARIAN. YOU HELP VORCHA?"

 

Lia mulled over it's request.  What the void, right?  Nobody hardly ever helped her, but that shouldn't stop her from helping out others who needed it.  Anyways, it hadn't tried to gut her and sell her organs, so it was probably an okay sort, and it HAD helped her get here like it promised.

 

"Sure, I'll help ya.  What is it you need?"

 

"YOU HIRE DANCER. ALONE DANCE."

 

"WHAAAT!?" Lia's voice cracked as she struggled to maintain a nonchalant volume.

 

"PRIVATE.  NO ONE WATCH BUT YOU."

 

"I-I...but...I wouldn’t...I--I-I don't have the money for something like that!" Lia was pretty sure if she backpedaled any faster she would end up at the Fleet in a few minutes.

 

The vorcha seemed to be anticipating this because it pulled a handful of chits out of seemingly nowhere (since it's claws hadn't been anywhere near it's clothes).

 

"VORCHA HAS LOTS MONEY.  YOU BUY DANCE.  KEEP REST MONEY."

 

Lia groaned inwardly.  She wasn't a prude, she had her subscription to Fornax, didn't she?  But hiring a stripper?  In a busy club?  Her suit had to work overtime to remove sweat even when she was in brief, no-pressure social situations, she was pretty sure drowning was in her immediate future considering the eminent transaction..

 

"Fine.  Just gimme the chits.  Who do you need me to hire?"

 

"YOU HIRE HELLA TINA.  LADY DANCER."

It shoved the chits at her then turned and stared unblinking at the entrance of the club.

 

*sigh* Well, all things considered, having more money than you made in a month suddenly shoved in your face was a fairly decent way to begin an afternoon, thought Lia.

 

As she was about to start into the club she paused and turned,

 

"Wait, how do I know wh..."

 

The hallway was empty.

 

She hefted the money as her eyes scoured the hallway from side to side.  The money certainly felt real, so she probably hadn't imagined all that, right?

Whatever…Time to spend some creds.

 

...Wait, what was that human expression?...

 

** Chapter one: MAKIN' IT RAIN **

 

Lia screwed up her courage and busted through the double doors (obviously this was in a less than reputable part of the Citadel considering the primitive hinged accoutrements), and stared at the sphincter end of a very long line in a very long corridor.

 

"WHAT THE PHUHh...! Watch it lady!" said a human male standing at the end of the line, whom she'd nearly bludgeoned when she'd burst through the doors.

 

"Turian Turd Burgers" Lia muttered under her breath as she considered the length of the impending wait. (Although a reputable business establishment, TTB has nonetheless had an extremely difficult time becoming established outside of the Palaven system, and because of their unfortunate name, many species lamentably use the brand as a kind of profanity *additional side note: "turd" of course being the turian word for the hearty tuber-like vegetables commonly found in the more provincial areas, not dissimilar to Earth's "potatoes")

 

Through her haze of anxiety, Lia noted that the club certainly seemed popular.  Forty five minutes in, and she was STILL waiting in line.  On the upside however, the clientele for Jelly Roll was certainly colorful.  She was pretty sure she'd seen more species in those last forty five minutes, than that one time she had gotten lost for an entire day in the embassies.

 

Three fist fights, one mugging, five arguments, two doomsday nudists, one vorcha accidentally(presumably) setting itself on fire, and ninety seven minutes later Lia was only one human away from finally getting into the club.  UNfortunately, this human apparently had less than ninety seven minutes worth of patience because he was beginning to become visibly more and more antsy the longer he waited for the elcor guard to let him in.

 

She really hoped the pasty little twankle could keep it together.

 

He couldn't.

 

"THAT'S IT, YOU BIG YOSEMITE-SAM-PORKED-A-ELEPHANT-LOOKIN' S.O.B.! I AIN'T WAITIN' NO MORE!" and with that he attempted to charge past the bouncer.

 

Lia marveled at the ways in which life provided the most unexpected education at times.

 

Firstly, most individuals believe that because Elcor move and speak methodically, that they are incapable of swift action.  This is untrue.

Secondly, many individuals also assume that the word "bouncer" is nothing more than a title.  Once again, this also proved untrue.

 

The guard intercepted the sprinting wannabe scopophiliac and sent him soaring towards the ceiling with a well-placed treetrunk sized forearm to the groin.

 

This was greeted by discreet, yet numerous, clapping from the queue behind Lia(it should be noted that a batarian leaving the club held up eight out of ten fingers after watching the human shot put, before continuing on his way out).

 

Although the faint boom boom of music from further in the club wasn't doing anything to alleviate Lia's mounting anxiety, she sure as the Rayya’s 3rd starboard ejection chute(aka: the Main Drain) wasn't going to try any of her previous neighbor's acrobatics.

 

After a few minutes the bouncer spoke:

"Continual Boredom.  You may enter."

 

"Thank you." she replied as she cautiously stepped around the Elcor and began to proceed.  Then stopped...

 

There were two signs in front of her and two sets of entrances.  Apparently the Jelly Roll catered to male and female clients?  How was she supposed to tell the difference!?  She hadn't even known there were male and female hanar!...  She considered the two signs again.  The one on the left was...wibblely?...and the one on the right...jigglely?  Twelve hells!  As she was pondering whether to wobble or joggle, she heard behind her, quite faintly:

 

"Increasing Annoyance."

 

‘That's the cincher then.  I'd rather not find out how high quarians bounce’ and with those thoughts Lia took the door to her left (the jagglely option, for those interested).

 

As most educated readers already know, hanar do not wear clothing, and in light of this, there is no one who makes and/or designs clothing for hanar.  But this was a strip club, and as such, the connoisseurs found therein nevertheless expected a certain amount of showmanship, aka "the ol' razzle dazzle".  The owner of Jelly Roll, while obviously somewhat unhinged, was certainly aware of these facts and had taken steps to resolve said issues.  Clearly clothing made for bipedal organisms would simply look silly, but *aha!* tassels and strategically placed nipple pasties would do swimmingly.  Yet once again, Complications reared her ugly head.  If one has ever attempted to attach something such as a post-it note, to something like, say, a strawberry jello, you would have realized that the application isn't the problem, but adhesion will certainly be a source of one's frustration.

 

Lia was far too overwhelmed upon walking in to have considered any of that, at any rate.  The first thoughts that raced across her mind were as follows(in order of magnitude):

 

COLORS

MOVEMENT

NOISE

SMELL

TASTE(from the smells)

 

It was her suit that shook her out the stupor.

 

"*bing ding* Liquid capacity at 55%.  Humidity level rising."

 

Lia's head tilted to the side as she struggled to decide her next course of action.

 

"Find the dancer.  Hire her.  Get out."  Three things.  That's not so bad.  Not so bad.  I can handle that...

Scanning the room she realized that there was neither rhyme nor reason as to the amount of "clothing" each hanar wore.  Sighting the one nearest her, she navigated her way through the maze of tables and bodies until she was by it's side.

 

"um...excuse me?...Can you..."

 

"Yyess?.." inquired the steadily strobing hanar as it turned towards her.

 

nyyyyooOOooom..

 

Deftly dodging an errant pasty she continued, "Can you, uh, help me?  I was wondering if this is the club for boys or for girls?..."

 

"Baby, this oone has enough aappendages for both males AAND females."

 

"No,  I mean, I'm sure you do...but it's not that I...it's just...*cough* ahem, um, I'm just trying to see Hella Tina..."

 

"Ooh, this oone uunderstands" it replied cooly, "the oone referred to aas Hella Tina iis currently ooccupied with performances iin this eestablishment's oother aaccomodations."

 

As Lia hastily beat a retreat, she idly wondered why the hanar had not raised it's tentacles above the nearby table.  With lightning quick clarity she realized that she did NOT, in fact, want confirmation for what that particular observation may or may not have implied.

 

Cautiously, she crossed the hallway where the bouncer was tending to it's line of epicureans-in-waiting.  Keeping a wary eyeball on the giant for any sudden moves, she made her way to the other side of the club(the wiggly option for those so inclined).  Once again she paused upon entering the room due to the sensory overload, but as she briefly stood there processing, a turian bumped into her as he was exiting.

 

"Sorry." managed Lia with semi coherence.

 

"’Uck-In’ Quarians..." he mumbled under his breath.

 

1.2.3...

 

It's okay, it's okay.  Don't get in trouble.  Don't make a scene.  Don't shame your people.  Don't shame the Ancestors.  Just let it go.  Lia could almost hear her mother's voice as she repeated the mantra to herself.  She'd only been on this station a month and she was tired of always needing to move.  She just wanted to earn some credits, maybe buy a small ship and return to the Fleet.  She didn't need any troubles.  

 

She clenched and unclenched her hands while the anger slipped away.  She had a job to complete, right?

 

Ballz.  She put her hand on her faceplate when she remembered where she was and WHY she was here.

 

Unfortunately once she finally managed to force her anger down, that just meant all kinds of space for her anxiety to rush back to the surface and bob around like some sort of unmentionable in a sewer drain.

 

A quick look around the room revealed that the bar was relatively unpopulated(most likely due in large part to the "alcoholic" "beverages" that they were notorious for "serving"), so she decided to make her way there.

 

As she approached, the baterian behind the counter wiggled all four eyebrows at her(The batarian people put great stock in eyebrow prowess.  There are vast professional tournaments and leagues dedicated to the artform throughout batarian space, but particularly so on Khar'shan.  One such notable maestro was Egratia Gag'mathroat, with a forehead said to have "blanched a thousand ships").  For some reason the terrifying display reminded her of a time she'd been groundside on Tuchanka when an earthquake struck.  It was the only time she'd ever been motion sick.

 

"Hey liddle lady.  Can I ged you someding do drink?"  He said while actively streaking a glass with artistic brown stains.

 

"Uh, no thanks."  Eyes glued to his rippling forehead, she continued:

 

"I'm, uh, looking forehe--I'm mean, I would like to hire Hella Tina for a dance?"

 

"Sure, no problem!  Jusd fill oud which dancer you wand and pick a room, and dhey will meed you inside when id's your durn."  

 

Eyebrows still furiously undulating like a krogan's stomach after having eaten one of Dodgey Diceman’s Discount Sushi Delights(“Don’t think twice.  Just roll the dice!” *famous for their “Tuesday Boneless Brown Trout" special), the bartender slid a datapad towards her.  Lia picked the appropriate options on the pad, thanked him(while discreetly covering a very threatening burp), and made her way to the private room she had chosen, leaving a forlorn bartender with a static forehead in her wake.

 

On her way to the private booth, Lia’s suit chimed a notification:

 

"*bing ding* Liquid capacity now at 75%.  Humidity level rising."

 

The C-Sec recordings of Lia's ensuing mad dash across the Wiggle Room in Jelly Roll! would go on to become the stuff of legend.  For months specialists would pour over the footage, trying to ascertain if any of the numerous pasties, tassels, and/or bodily fluids actually managed to touch her suit.  The recordings would later be "stolen" and find their way to the black market where collectors would auction them back and forth, the owners constantly finding themselves bereft of life in "tragic" "accidents".  Two cults and three civilizations would rise and fall in their wake until finally someone sensibly decides to chuck them into a supernova(it's said the tapes survived, came out the other side and created an entire alternate universe).

 

HHEEeeeHOOM WHEEsszz

 

'Finally...Finally some peace and quiet' thought Lia as she sagged against the door to the booth.  After checking her suit to make sure that she was "shrapnel" free, she settled into the overstuffed red velvet chair on the opposite side of the room.

 

"aahhh"

This isn't so bad, she mused, if she only had a cup of hot cider and a book, or maybe a holovid...this could be pretty relaxing...

 

A few minutes later, Lia was interrupted from her thoughts by a small chime from the door, signifying that someone was about to enter.

 

In floated the oft sought after, much impersonated(but never duplicated), one and only, Hella Tina.

 

"Greeting little oone.  AAren't you aa sweet little treat.  How can this oone be oof service today?

 

"I would like one dance, please."  You could practically hear the blush in Lia's voice.

 

"Certainly" purred Tina.

 

Hanar do not have faces, therefore they have neither eyes nor mouths(conventionally speaking).  Generally, when one doesn't have a face, it is very difficult, or even impossible, to be seductive.  Tina, however, was a professional, and Lia was sure that if she hadn't been quite so preoccupied with stress, then her moisture problems wouldn't have been due to perspiration.

 

With that, Tina selected a song and started her routine, although to Lia, the word "routine" just didn't do it justice.

 

It was mesmerizing.

 

Gyrating, pulsing, sliding, worbing, hanging, twaping, flooping, and werking.  Tina didn't just compliment the beat, she planted a pucker on it's face and rode it like a tidal wave hitting Saujhe Beach.

 

Unbidden, Lia's mouth began to shape words:

 

"Yeah, baby, shake that-"

 

EYES

 

Big, unblinking, bloodshot vorcha eyes were suddenly swimming in Lia's view.

 

"WWWWWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT????" She yelled as she scrambled up and over the plushy red chair she'd been reclining in.

 

The pinstriped vorcha from earlier outside the club, twisted as it dropped from the ceiling and landed on it's feet in front of her.

 

By this time Tina had stopped her dance and was watching the exchange.

 

"WHaT IN tHE ANCESTOR's THIRD TIT ARE yOU DOING HERE!?" Lia managed to sputter.

 

"VORCHA SORry-- *COUGH* *ACK* *WEEEZZZEe* -- *Ahem* Oh my, that's always such an uncomfortable manner of speech.  As I was saying.  I do greatly apologize if I startled you Miss Vael, but, as I'm sure can be imagined, navigating the confines of a ventilation system can be somewhat confusing at times."

 

The vorcha stared at her expectantly.

 

Lia was far too distracted to hear the faint "*bing ding* Liquid capacity now at 95%.  Humidity levels approaching maximum.", however, a small sound did managed to find it's way out of Lia's throat as her brain struggled to catch up with her thoughts.

 

"Goodness!  Where ARE my manners!  I once again find myself in need of begging your apologies Miss Vael.  We have never properly been introduced!  My name is Wadsworth Beatrix Worthington III, esquire, you are more than welcome to simply call me Wadsworth, however.  It is a pleasure to officially make your acquaintance at last."

 

As Wadsworth extended a clawed hand, Lia shook it in dumbfounded silence.

 

Graciously he then turned to Tina, and the vorcha and hanar started talking amicably(“How are your delightful little squidlings faring? Eexcellent, thank you.  How iis the stapler collection coming along?  Aa limited eedition chrome plated Rannoch Rapier! Yyou don’t say?  This oone hears those are eexceptionally rare…” ect..) as they waited for Lia to come around.  After a few minutes her cognitive functions all finally managed to catch up with one another.

 

"Ahh, okay okay, I'm just going to put aside the first few obvious questions for now, and ask: Why are you here?"

 

Excusing himself from the conversation with Tina, Wadsworth turned to answer.

 

"An astute question Miss Vael!  I am here because Miss Tina has information that I, and individuals I represent, am greatly in need of.  However, she was being observed by unsavory parties in the event that I or one of my associates contacted her, therefore, I purchased YOUR services in order procure a private audience."

 

"Alright, but what about--"

 

"*bing ding* Liquid capacity at maximum.  Initiating emergency discharge procedure."

 

Panic flew across Lia's face.

She dodged around Wadsworth, jumped over Tina, and was out the door before anyone had time to say "Wat?".

 

I thought I had more time!  She screamed inwardly.  I must have missed one of the notifications...

 

Impressively(but not quite impressively enough), Lia had reached about halfway to the exit when it happened.

 

BABOOOOOSH

 

She exploded.

The end.

  
  


Okay, okay.  It wasn't THAT kind of explosion.  To most patrons and employees of Jellyroll! that is what certainly appeared to happen.  Lia's suit, according to emergency procedures, released all accumulated perspiration at once, from all available exhaust ports in her suit.  The resulting mushroom cloud of faintly pleasant vapor was strong enough to send anything and everything that weighed less than 1.12 kgs speeding towards the exterior walls.

 

The immediate repercussions for this hazy, moist explosion, were as follows:

 

A krogan, in his haste to check on the safety of the other patrons(he was screeching like a pyjak with it's tail on fire, as he flailed towards the exit) accidentally bumped Lia and sent her careening into a pole, which, upon her arrival to said pole, rendered her unconscious.

 

Two, full scale tentacle chaos.

 

Hanar live the majority of their lives underwater, and although they've risen to nearly the apex of their ecosystem, they are not, however, at the top.  Their homeworld of Kahje boasts a 90% ocean cover, and as anyone who know anything about the ocean would tell you, stuff that grows in water can get BIG.  One of the hanar's natural predators is the Thubthub.  The Thubthub has the ability to superheat the water around it's mouth and then expel it, thus boiling alive most creatures it happens to be hunting.  

 

So of course when a giant cloud of “steam” appears suddenly in a predominately hanar populated club, things are going to get a little slimy.

 

There were putrid green strobing hanar everywhere.  Pulsing on the ceiling, dashing for the exits, gently slapping customers(hanar have no tentacle strength out of the water), and one squatting in the corner shivering while it occasionally blasted out an inky substance accompanied by a rude noise.

 

By the time C-Sec arrived the club was almost completely empty except for one hanar(Squeaky still pootin' in it's corner), an unconscious quarian female in the middle of the room, and a dazed, but curiously blissful, human male sitting near the exit(when later questioned as to why he had not gotten out of the way of the hanar stampede, he said and quote "I've seen enough [specific adult holovid subgenre] to know where that was going.").

 

**⇺⇻**

 

When Lia awoke, it was in a tiny, unfamiliar room with three walls.  With her back protesting, she eased herself out of the small cot she had been laying in and made her way outside so she could see where she was.

 

At least that's what she TRIED to do.  What she ACTUALLY did was bounce off a kinetic barrier and land with a 'WHUMP' on the floor.

 

"OW!  Sunofa*bzzt*!"

 

"Oi!  Prisoner!  You 'wake in der?"  Said a C-Sec officer walking down the hall towards her cell.

 

"Yes 'Officer'" Lia said through gritted teeth while massaging her pride ('Officer' of course being pronounced in the same manner that one uses when referring to certain bodily functions).

 

"'ell c'mon then.  Your lawyer's rep, jus got here and 'e said 'e needs ta speak w' you."  Under his breath he added, "I ne'er 'eard o' no quarian could afford a lawyer before doe."

 

*sigh* "Sure, lead on 'Officer'" said Lia resignedly.  At this point she was tired, she ached all over, and the day had been so weird, she'd just determined to ride it the rest of the way out.

 

After following him down a few hallways, he eventually brought her to an interrogation room.  Turning without so much as a "howdy do", he exited the room, leaving Lia by herself(not entirely alone though, there was a table and two chairs, which everyone knows cannot be trusted).

 

Some minutes later, the door opened and in glided Wadsworth with barely a whisper of sound.

 

Sighing again, Lia propped her head on one hand and regarded the vorcha.

 

"I had a feeling you were going to be my 'lawyer's representative'" she grumbled.

"What do you want NOW?"

 

"I am affronted, Miss Vael.  I was under the impression that we were on amicable speaking terms" Wadsworth said, holding his claws to his chest.

 

"Look, Wadsworth, I appreciate the payment and you DID apologized for scarin' the *bzzt* outta me earlier, but I gotta say, this day has been a *bzzt* *bzzt* cluster *bzzt*.  AND technically if I hadn't taken your job, I wouldn't be staring down an unknown amount of prison time here, so you'll have to excuse me if I'm less than 'amicable'."

 

"Ah...yes, well, that is most understandable.  As it just so happens, however, I may be able to shed some illumination your impending incarceration that may make your outlook somewhat more positive" offered Wadsworth.

 

"Wait.  You really DO work for a lawyer?" asked Lia flabbergasted.

 

"Oh heavens NO" Wadsworth nearly shrieked, "I should think NOT, I do have standards I'll have you know!"  Composing himself he added, "I am perfectly capable of navigating the rigors of Citadel law myself, thank you very much.  Why, not two years ago I single handedly had an allegedly murderous individual exonerated, despite there being numerous false claims brought against them(The previous turian council member was murdered in a room full of people by one of his own staff, and not only did Wadsworth get the charges dropped, despite eyewitness reports of the events, he also got that same staff member elected to their previous employer's position).

 

"You mean you got up in front of a entire courtroom, with press and everything, like--like...that?" Lia said gesturing to Wadsworths' entirety.

 

"Ah, ahem, well perhaps 'single handedly' is perhaps too strong of a term.  Strictly speaking, I merely offered the defense attorney some key insights, and I was only in attendance because I happened to be cleaning the bathrooms in the courthouse at the time.  Irregardless, we are rapidly digressing from your current predicament."

 

"Uggh..." Lia sighed dejectedly.

 

"Quite so.  However, as I was beginning to say earlier, I managed to smooth things over with the Hanar Embassy so they will not be pressing charges, furthermore, I 'negotiated' with the owners of Jellyroll! and you will not be charged for the damages caused due to your suit 'malfunction'.  In light of these facts, C-Sec will only be charging you with a minor disorderly conduct violation.  A negligible five days of incarceration at a minimum security facility, and you are free to go!"

 

"And what's the catch?" Lia said suspiciously.

 

"No catch, no catch.  Although..." he said looking anywhere but at her.

 

"Annnnnd, there it is..."

 

"No!  I assure you Miss Vael, there are no stipulations for my assistance in your incarceration dilemma." Wadsworth said pricking his palms and holding them up to her.  "There is however, the matter of employment."

 

"Employment?"

 

"Quite so.  I present to you two options.  Firstly, serve your time uneventfully, walk out and move on with your life, and I will never contact you again.  OR, I do have a task that just so happens to take place at the facility in which you will find yourself hosted."

 

"A job.  Where I'm gonna be in jail.  Yah don't say?" (if Lia's face had been anymore deadpan, she would've become an inanimate object)

 

Unperturbed, Wadsworth cheerfully continued.

 

"Oh yes, I do say.  If you accept and complete the task, you will have two more options available to you.  Take the payment, and once again we separate company as aforementioned, or, I am authorized to offer you a place on our crew.  With a monthly stipend, of course."

 

A crew.  A place on ship.  The words buzzed around Lia's mind like incessant cherubish bees.  Past experience had taught her to be cautious though.

 

"You guys do any sciency stuff?" she said squinting at the vorcha.

 

"Define 'sciency stuff'" he replied.

 

"Medical experiments, surgeries."

 

"Rest assured, we do not perform any medical and or surgical experiments*"(It should be noted that whenever an individual well versed in law says “*” in a conversation, you should always reread their fine print.  In this case, the subsection following Wadsworth’s assurances here include a nearly inaudible “without prior consent”)

 

Lia considered for a moment.

 

"What's the job?"

 

"There is an individual who has in their possession a certain chemical formula necessary to parties that I represent, beyond that I cannot say more lest you decide to decline my offer."

 

Once again, Lia mulled over her options.  On the one hand, her only job so far for this weird little vorcha had landed her in the slammer.  But that hadn't really been his fault, had it?  Plus, he HAD negotiated for a lesser sentence for her, or at least he said he had.  No, scratch that.  He definitely HAD helped her out, just last week a doomsday nudist had been sentenced to life(fully clothed) behind bars for crashing the annual Hanar Doily Construction and Thesis Seminar.  So he definitely used some pull at the embassies to help her out.  And a crew!  Even though she still dreamed of being able to return to the fleet, she had pretty much given up on ever completing her Pilgrimage.  Anytime she had managed to come up with something even remotely worthwhile it would be stolen, she'd lose it, or she'd have to sell it for rent or food.  But here, she was finally being offered a place to belong, to be part of a crew...  It wasn't the Fleet, but it was something.  If nothing else, she could always just take the payment for the job too.

 

"Alright, I accept the job.  What's this formula I need to get?"

 

"Exceptional!  Wonderful, wonderful.  Now, before I give you the details of the job, you do know the primary rule when entering a penal facility, yes?"

 

"No, what?" said Lia.

 

"Well my dear, first and foremost it's..."

 

 


End file.
